


A Fine Christmas Party

by Janet Carter (janet_carter)



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janet_carter/pseuds/Janet%20Carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With her husband at sea, Diana had planned the perfect Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fine Christmas Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musamihi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musamihi/gifts).



"But don’t we often dine without men, when our husbands are at sea?" Sophie asked. "I am always so pleased at your company, cousin, but I am unsure whether we can mark it as a special occasion." She eyed the quantity of greenery being carried in by the servants. "Oh, how lovely—I'm sure we will find room to hang it somewhere."

"This will be a Christmas festival all for women!" Diana said. "These ladies were utterly delightful when I met them in London, and when I heard that they would be in our neighborhood, I was overcome by the idea of entertaining them. Their conversation was so stimulating! And they showed the greatest interest in my thoughts on breeding that stallion. You will be completely charmed as well, I am sure, and we shall all be able to enjoy the pleasures of each other’s conversation without the competitiveness and cutting remarks that always take place when the attentions of men are at stake." She directed the servants to set down the garlands next to the fireplace, and the ivy—the ivy by the window.

This Christmas would be perfect; she just knew it. She was a married woman in England now, and if her husband must be at sea for their first married Christmas, it would not stop her from enjoying it. She would present a respectable yet delightful house party.

She had not had a word from Stephen for weeks—she was used to the vagaries of communication at sea, but at _Christmastime_ , one would think he might find some way to send a note. But why would she expect that, when she had married such an unsentimental man?

"Oh, may we have those clever baubles that Aunt Charlotte used to make?" Sophie asked. "I so loved those when we were small, and I’m not sure the children have ever seen them."

Diana graciously agreed, although the children had not figured highly in her plans for Christmas entertainment. Didn’t they have their own little games and rituals to keep them occupied? It was all right; they were sweet things, like their mother, and once they’d had their fun they could go back to the nursery. She dove into the pile of garlands and began climbing onto the furniture to festoon the doors and mantelpiece.

"Hand me a tack?" she asked. Sophie found the hardware on the side table and passed it along, then noticed something else in the greenery. She decided that there was no point in asking about the mistletoe; it must be fashionable this year, whether or not men were present. She gamely gathered up her skirts and began finding spots that could hold more ivy.

By the time Diana was quite satisfied with the decorations, it was near time for supper. The meal was devoted to an excited discussion of what to serve their guests—"a ham on Monday, and a goose Tuesday, or the other way round?"—and what games to play.

"I always enjoy a Twelfth Night cake," said Sophie, and Diana had to agree, but she also thought that their fashionable guests might prefer something more au courant. Why did they have to be at war with France yet again? She was sure that Paris had some exciting fashions.

* * *

Their guests were due by the afternoon chaise, and she couldn’t possibly imagine any more preparations, so Diana was considering a morning ride when she heard hoof-beats outside. The butcher’s delivery? That must be it, although why they wouldn’t come around the back as usual she didn’t know; perhaps there was a new boy. Oh, was it too late to ask Cook to try the new preparation she’d heard about? It could hardly hurt to ask, could it? She was heading to the parlor to tell Sophie of her latest idea, when the front door swung open and a familiar slight, dark figure entered.

"My darling Villiers!" Stephen exclaimed. His eyes were wide and warm, his wig slightly askew. She'd never have forgotten his movements, eccentric but efficient. "Hello, my dear. I apologize that I did not make it here sooner; I was delayed in London consulting with a colleague about a new type of orthoptera. But when Jack said that we would be back this month, I could hardly contain myself." He wrapped her in a warm embrace; Diana gave him a quick kiss and extricated herself from his arms.

"But what are you doing here?" she asked, smoothing her skirts. "I thought you would be gone for months still." Oh, why did he have to upset her plans, after she had put so much work into them? She had been prepared to get used to Christmases with a husband at sea, and now here he was with his affectionate face and words. Her visitors had been promised a jolly evening of ladies! And Stephen, for all of his better points, was no lady. Nor was he a gallant whose presence would charm her fashionable new friends.

"Our cruise was cut short," he said. "Something to do with ministry politics; I’m afraid I didn’t follow all of the whys and wherefores, but the end result is that we may enjoy Christmas together for the first time." He examined her expression. "I hoped you would be happy to see me—is that not—?"

"Oh, of course I’m happy," Diana said vex’dly. "I just was in the middle of preparing for guests—charming ladies that I met in London," she hastened to add—"and you’ve caught me between one task and another. Playing hostess has turned out to be a chore; there's so much that goes into it!"

"New friends," he said, "I’m glad to hear it." He still looked uncertain as to his place in the house. "I shall leave you to your work, then. I have a small project of my own, which I was going to delay, but it will keep me busy while you are at work—in fact, you won’t believe the luck! My good friend from down the road has a badger for us to dissect!" His face began to shine. "It displayed some particularly interesting symptoms before its demise. I shall send word for him to bring it right over."

"But that won’t do at all!" Diana protested. "Must you?"

"Well, I have been looking forward to examining the liver," Stephen said, "but not as much as I’ve been looking forward to seeing you, my dear, and I suppose the weather has turned cold enough that we may keep the cadaver in the icehouse for a day or two." This was better, but not considerably so; Diana had promised Mrs. Pennywise a tour of the grounds.

"This ivy is quite lovely," said Stephen, pulling it down from above the doorway. "Did you know that there is a species of bees that use it for building material? The male drone chews it up—like so—and together they build their nest from it." He spit the macerated ivy back out, since it was less agreeable to the human digestive system.

Diana snatched the un-chewed portion of the greenery from his hand and set to work re-hanging it. Stephen’s hand hovered near her waist and dropped again.

"I must finish decorating before suppertime," she said. "I have become quite the domestic sprite."

"I see," Stephen said. "Well, I’ll tend to my specimen, and we shall reunite at dinner." He looked so doleful that Diana nearly yielded and welcomed him home more wholeheartedly; he was standing almost directly below the mistletoe, even, and he had clearly bathed and had a shave during his stop in London. But he could have given some warning of his arrival, and she had to check with Cook on the mince pies.

* * *

"Surely that must be so exciting, to travel to the South Seas, to India, all around the world!" exclaimed a young woman from the London party who had turned out to be particularly inane. Her guests were not nearly as charming as she remembered; now that they were here, she found she just wanted to be alone with Stephen. Drat him, she had had a plan!

"Oh, I daresay it is," said Stephen, mildly. "Of course the ship is ruled by the needs of His Majesty’s Navy, and often exploration plays second fiddle. But I have seen some beautiful sights."

"I, for one, should be very glad never to return to India," said Diana.

"Why, when were you there?" the girl asked. "That must have been before the governor—" she cut off abruptly. Her friend, realizing that she was about to imply that their hostess had reached a certain age, had tactfully kicked her under the table. "That must have been an adventure; I should have been scared to leave the house." 

"Aye, she has traveled to the subcontinent more than once," Stephen said. "It’s not a place for a withdrawing young lady, but she carried herself off well."

This was more generous than he needed to be, Diana thought, considering his memories of her in India. 

"I’ve always wanted to travel to Scandinavia," another woman said. "Have you been there?"

Another place with too many memories!

"Yes, indeed," Stephen said. "There were some lovely gardens in Stockholm; I believe you said you had an interest in gardens?" The woman did indeed, and this subject carried them through to pudding.

Stephen was taking surprisingly well to conversing with this crowd, Diana thought. Before his arrival home, she had pictured an evening of stimulating, intellectual conversation, a salon of ideas, but she saw now that she had not found the right audience. Then she had worried that Stephen was such an odd duck that he would throw the whole room off; her sophisticated dinner ruined—but when Stephen made the effort to pay attention, and wasn’t sparring with someone as disagreeable as she could be, he was a lovely conversationalist.

He was telling a story about Jack now; she could tell from the fond look on Sophie’s face. What did he and Jack talk about on their voyages, she wondered? They had so little in common at first glance, but both had unexpected sides to their natures.

"—and when the piglet was discovered, the Captain said, ‘There's the admiral for you’!" Stephen was laughing harder than Diana remembered seeing. He could still surprise her, after all. "The master’s mate had thought he had gotten away with the whole thing." Peals of laughter rang out from the guests—their guests. Diana sat back and watched her charming husband, her lovely arrangements, and their happy guests, and smiled in contentment at the pleasant atmosphere of cheerful company. What a good job she had done of planning this party.

* * *

"Well, my dear," said Stephen. "I know you weren’t pleased at the surprise, but I am so very glad to be here." Their guests had been settled down to bed for the night, after a rousing round of parlor games, and the evening being declared a success all around. The fire still warmed the room, and the shadows of the greenery brought the walls closer in.

"I’m always happy to have you home," said Diana. "Except for when I’m cross with you, but even then, there’s some part of me that is warmed by your face and your voice." She sat down next to him, and he leaned his head on her shoulder. "Your letters sound so very much like you, but it is not the same as hearing and seeing you."

"And yet, even when we talk in person, sometimes it seems that we are not hearing each other," said Stephen.

"You have my full attention right now," said Diana. "And I hope that I have yours."

"Yes, but oh, that reminds me!" said Stephen, sitting up. Oh, that was Stephen—focused like no one else at times, and at other times taken up with a million and one ideas.

"If you’re going to run out to the shed for your badger," said Diana, "I shall make you sleep out there."

"Oh, no, dear heart," he said. "I merely need to fetch something from my coat pocket—here it is!" He returned to the settee and presented her with a small bundle of dirty muslin. "I apologize that it is not packaged more prettily; I took it out of the box for traveling and forgot all about it until now."

Diana eagerly unwrapped it. Once the outer layer was removed a cleaner layer was revealed, tied up with a ribbon, and within that the cloth opened and a sparkling strand of sapphires and diamonds spilled out.

"Oh, Stephen, it's lovely!" she said, admiring the brilliance of the stones, and the taste of the man who’d chosen them for her.

"I bought it off Anderson while I was in London," he said. "I did not wish to drop in unexpected without at least a trinket." She handed it back to him and turned for him to clasp it around her neck. It lay perfectly across her collarbone. He pressed a kiss against the back of her neck.

"Turn around, my dear," he said. "Yes, the blue does bring out your eyes; I knew it should." A sentimental man, after all.

"And here I am with no gift for you," Diana said. "I thought I had months, you wicked man."

"Of course not!" he said. "How could you, when you had no idea I was coming? If I wanted gifts, I suppose I would have sent word ahead, then tarried in London long enough for you to prepare—but I didn't want to wait any longer to see you." His fingers trailed along the strands of the necklace.

"And that is the only acceptable excuse for not giving me warning," said Diana. "Why must you spoil my perfectly good temper-tantrum?" She moved his hand lower.

"I apologize," he said. "How dreadfully inconsiderate of me. Please do let me know how I might make it up to you?" He kissed her briefly, and then, when she responded favorably, more thoroughly.

"Oh, I expect it will be very difficult," she said. "But luckily I'm fond of you."

"And I you, my dear," he said. "Let us remember this as a merry Christmas."

“The first of many,” she said, and pushed him back on the settee with a smile.


End file.
